Forbidden Ink
by Yaoishoujo
Summary: What would happen if the events that occur during the end of Inkdeath were changed a bit? Forbidden desires play a lead role in determining the fate of the people in the ink world. Mo/Dustfinger centric; MAJOR SPOILERS!
1. Death & Rebirth

Hello and welcome to my newest fic: Forbidden Ink! This story was inspired by Cornelia Funke's last book in the Inkheart trilogy called Inkdeath. The main pairing in my story is so unbelievably canon, especially in the last book.

Pairings: Mo/Dustfinger (main), slight Mo/Resa & Dustfinger/Roxane, hinted one-sided love Black Prince/Dustfinger, one-sided unrequited love Farid/Dustfinger, mentions of Meggie/Farid and visa versa, and Meggie/Doria

Warnings: SPOILER ALERT! My story takes place from chapter 25 onward in Inkdeath. I'd suggest not reading my fic if you haven't finished the series. Even though mine is an AU version, I still follow the original events and timeline to some degree. Of course, there are major M/M themes in my fic, so if that offends you, please do not read it. Flames are not welcome. Even if they are masked as constructive criticism, I can tell the difference. Also, the characters may seem OOC more often than not. I tried to avoid that, but it's almost like a subconscious act whenever I write. I hope it's tolerable this time around.

I hope you enjoy it, none the less! I plan on this being my longest fic to date. Many more chapters to come!

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own the series, characters, etc. They are all owned by Cornelia Funke!**

* * *

White

It surrounded the Bluejay like water, filling every space in time within its longing embrace. Then, as quickly as it came, it disappeared, leaving him in somewhat familiar surroundings. Trees, grass, the sky above… he even felt the cool evening air as it caressed his cheeks.

Where was he?

He couldn't see any gravestones. His end of the bargain he made with Orpheus was met as soon as he called Death's Daughters. Had the White Women tricked him? A grave thought hit him like a boulder: _'Am I dead?'_

"Not quite." Mo turned in all directions frantically to find where that voice had come from. As his vision focused on a branch, he saw a very beautiful bird with plumage as bright as gold and a peculiar red mark on it's breast. He eyed it questioningly.

"Who are you?"

"Oh I have many names." The bird ruffled its golden feathers, as if to show pride in its popularity. "I am the beginning and end to all living things. I give life then take it when the time is right. I am the Great Shape-Changer!"

Surprisingly, he wasn't afraid if this entity, even though he now knew its identity. His focus unwavering, he stated bluntly, "You're Death."

The being shed its feathers and skin till there was nothing left but its skeletal structure. Mo cringed slightly at the sight. Then it assumed a new identity: a marten. Without another word, it scurried over to an area shadowed by a mass of trees. The White Women appeared and, apprehensively, created a path for the bookbinder that led to where Death was waiting.

It wasn't the fact that Death's Daughters were there that made him hesitate momentarily. On the contrary, they made him feel safe and strangely comforted. No… what made him uneasy was the unknown. What did Death have in store for him within that darkened area surrounded by foliage?

He inhaled deeply and slowly walked forward; all the while, noticing the sad looks on all the White Women. It's as if they were silently pleading with him not to do what they knew and feared he would once his short walk ended. As he drew near, a small beacon of light shown through the branches of the trees that sheltered a figure lying on a bed of straw, leaves, and twigs. A thick wool blanket covered it from neck to toe. Silvertongue took another step forward to get a better look at the motionless being. His eyes grew wide and he felt his composure leave him entirely as the face he'd been trying to identify became as clear as day. He took another step forward, then another, until his pace quickened, leading him to the person he missed so much.

"Du… Dustfinger!" He fell to his knees beside the lifeless fire-eater. The face before him began to blur as his eyes misted over, threatening to expose the forming tears.

That face… that beautiful face he feared he'd never lay his eyes on again was right here in front of him. He outstretched his hand to gently caress Dustfinger's scarred cheek, but… there were no scars! Taken aback, he immediately questioned the observant marten.

"What happened to the scars Basta inflicted on him?" Just the mere mention of the infamous Black Jacket's name sent pangs of fury through the Jay's veins.

Death scurried up Dustfinger's body till it settled itself on his chest. "When you die, all the evidence of physical harm inflicted on your body during your life above ground is removed. It's to ensure that nothing is left to help you remember your life prior to death."

Sorrow and pity filled the bookbinder's heart. His gaze fell back on the fire-dancer's peaceful face. _Had he already forgotten everything?_ Mo sadly wondered to himself. In that moment, he remembered why he had summoned the White Women. He glared at Death accusingly. "Why am I here, Death? The deal I made with Orpheus didn't involve me getting carried off by your daughters. I called them so that he could ask them about Dustfinger and, in exchange, he was to write words that would send my family home."

The being of death and rebirth laughed so hard that her voice seemed to echo off of invisible walls. She shed her skin once more and reverted back to her golden bird form. She flapped her beautiful wings to lift herself up to roost on Mo's shoulder.

"That Orpheus is such a fool. He thinks he can bargain with Death itself by reciting a few pretty lines? Ha! I am not made of ink and paper. I govern all that is living and dead. I will not succumb to mere words or submit myself to any living creature, especially one as horrible as Orpheus." She sighed, cleared her thoughts, and then continued, "Now, as for why you're here, it's really quite simple. I have a deal for you. You know that the Adderhead needs to be killed, right? I admit, I was furious at you for making him immortal with The White Book. I wanted to kill you right then and there, but my daughters insisted that your heart was as pure and beautiful as your voice. They reassured me that you would stop at nothing to right the wrongs you caused. I've been watching you for a long time and I'm convinced you'll turn things around for the better. On the other hand, I also know that the Adderhead wants you to bind him a new and improved book. You must _not _make that a reality. If you do, I will not hesitate to kill you on the spot. You must write three words in the original book: ink, blood, death. That will kill him instantly. Now, I'm giving you a time limit in which to complete your task. You have until the first day of spring. If you do not succeed, I will, without haste, take your life along with your daughter's. "

Mo's eyes went wide with fear and anger. His heart was beating like a drum as he stood up to protest. "What the hell does my daughter have to do with this? Why would you have to take her life, as well? That makes no sense! Just take my life! That should be enough. Please! She still has so much life to live."

Death merely grinned wryly, "With so much on the line, I have no doubts about you succeeding. Give me the Adderhead's life and I will spare you and your precious daughter. Do we have a deal, bookbinder?"

Knowing all too well that a mere mortal had no right to argue with Death about morality, he clenched his fists and teeth and glared defiantly at her. "Very well. But the fire-eater comes with me." He pointed with authority down at Dustfinger.

The White Women gasped and whispered their objections amongst themselves. Though Death felt indifferently towards Dustfinger, she knew her daughters cared for him a great deal, if only in the mere fact that they craved the warmth of the fire he produced. She stared at Mo, then at her daughters' sad faces, then down at the man in eternal slumber, and ended back on the Jay's determined expression. She closed her eyes, sighed, and then gave her answer.

"Very well. You may have him back. But if you fail in your mission, then his life will be taken, as well. Is that clear?"

Even under these dire circumstances, Mo couldn't help but smile. He gazed affectionately upon the man who would be by his side when they returned to the living. He quickly averted his attention away from Dustfinger and assumed his stern persona whilst addressing the golden bird of death.

"Yes. As you wish. Rest assured, I will not fail in killing the Adderhead. With Dustfinger, the Black Prince, and the other men of the Motley Crew at my side, I have no doubts about our success."

She stared at him for a moment as if to search his soul for any shadow of a doubt, but found none. She then turned her attention toward the lifeless robber. "Well, then, call to him."

Silvertongue cocked an eyebrow in puzzlement. "Call to him? He's dead. How can he hear me?"

Death groaned. "In order to bring him back, he has to hear a familiar voice calling to him. It has to be someone he shared a special bond with in life. From what I've observed, you two have created a rather unique, unbreakable bond. One that transcends not only life, but death, as well."

Mo gulped as he felt his face flush slightly. _'Mortimer, snap out of it!' _He yelled at himself. _'What's wrong with you? Why are you feeling embarrassed after hearing such a simple statement? Of course Dustfinger and I share a bond. We've been through a lot together and he's become one of my closest friends. Then… why…?' _He stared at the fire-eater's scar-less face and felt something he'd been trying to ignore for a long time - the fact that his heart always seemed to beat a little faster whenever Dustfinger came to mind. He clenched his shirt right above his heart - where Mortola had almost ended his life – then, with as much resolve as he could muster, began to call his friend's name.

**~/~/~**

Fire danced and whirled in all directions just like it always had when he was alive. Dustfinger loved fire. It was his favorite companion. He was happily passing the time –- if that meant anything anymore –- in a beautiful, wide-open field. He felt so carefree and content, or so he thought. Death's grip on him made the memories of his previous life vanish as if they never existed to begin with. It left him blissfully unaware of the horrors that have befallen his earthly home.

Suddenly he heard a noise, much like a low whisper. He stopped his fire juggling to listen more intently. It was feint, very feint. He found it hard making sense of what the voice was saying or where it was coming from. As his eyes and ears searched for answers, his efforts lead him to a nearby stream. It seemed to shimmer more brilliantly than usual. It's as if it was trying to get his attention. He frowned suspiciously as he walked over to the water's edge. He knelt down and peered into the clear surface. What he saw startled him.

Images of people he did not know came into view, one after another. He sat back and scratched his head as he tried in vain to remember who these people might be. A woman, an Arabic boy, a group of people, a man and a bear… they just kept appearing with little hope in jogging Dustfinger's memory. The last image, however, stayed on the surface without disappearing and even seemed to speak to him.

"… finger…" it said in a muffled tone.

"What?" The perplexed fire-dancer knelt down further and placed his ear as close to the water's surface as possible. "What are you trying to tell me?"

"Dustfinger!" The voice became as clear as the water it spoke through. Suddenly, memories rushed through Dustfinger's brain, like watching a movie in fast-forward. He now had names for the people he saw in the water: Roxane, Farid, the Motley Crew, the Black Prince and Bear, and… Silvertongue.

His heart soared when that particular name slipped past his lips. It reminded him of the sweet taste the honey made from the fire Dwarves provided. Silvertongue… Yes, that's the name of the person whose face he was now staring at in the water and whose voice tickled his ears like Gwin's whiskers. He reached out to touch that kind face, but refrained once Mo spoke again, this time more forcefully.

"Dustfinger, come back! The story in the Inkworld isn't over! I need you more than ever!"

**~/~/~**

White, yet again, surrounded Mo. He was slightly disorientated by the time his bright surroundings dissipated completely. He shifted his body on the cold ground where he now sat and looked up. The sky was pitch black, except for the millions of little stars that illuminated the encompassing vast horizon. He looked to his left, then his right, noting the familiar gravestones. He was back in the Motley Cemetery. He sighed in relief and smiled. Not a moment later, he heard something move on the ground in front of him. He looked up and was immediately frozen in place.

He couldn't believe it, or maybe he simply refused to acknowledge it. Either way, he was now staring in disbelief at the man sitting in front of him. Death had kept her word. Dustfinger sat up and dusted himself off, groaning. Sensing that he was being watched, he looked up slowly and found himself gazing into the bewildered eyes of the man who saved his life. He smiled kindly, and then continued ridding his clothes of excess dirt.

"Heh! Didn't think I'd ever feel so alive again. Then again, I never expected to be brought back; least of all by you."

Mortimer suddenly felt a twinge of bashfulness, which caused him to look away. A small red tint was surfacing on his cheeks. Mo was thankful that it was such a dark evening. Dustfinger relished in the bookbinder's reaction. His infamous mischievous grin made its appearance while he watched the other man shift around uneasily.

Mo was momentarily at a loss for words. "Uh… well, you see… this whole thing was kind of unexpected, to be honest." His demeanor turned serious as he continued explaining the deal he made with Orpheus and how the White Women snatched him away without warning. Dustfinger fidgeted with the blades of grass at his feet as he listened. When Mo finished, the fire-dancer sighed heavily and stared up at the vast starlit sky.

"I see," he said in a low, hoarse voice. "So Farid has been doing all he can to bring me back, has he?" He couldn't help but smirk. "He's such a troublesome little brat. I should thank him when I get the chance." He looked up at the Jay inquiringly. "So, what's our next move? Death gave me a briefing on what our mission is and what will happen to us… and Meggie… if we fail."

Knowing how Silvertongue would react to his daughter's uncertain fate, the fire-tamer had almost stopped himself from mentioning her. The older man's head fell in sorrow, fear, and anger. He was still morbidly bitter towards Death for involving his daughter in all of this. He clenched his hands together in his lap and shook violently. It took all of his strength and resolve not to allow tears to fall. Suddenly he felt warmth surround him. His head jolted up to find that he was now wrapped within the fire-eater's warm, comforting arms.

Dustfinger was gentle as he held the pain stricken Bluejay. His voice was little more than a whisper as a spoke into Mo's ear. "I'm so sorry. I should not have said anything regarding your daughter. Forgive me." His embrace tightened in a reassuring way. "We _will _succeed, Silvertongue. Have faith and be confident. I'm here now and by your side is where I wanna be as we take down the Adderhead. So, please, no more shaking. Be strong for Meggie."

Mo let a few tears fall as he returned the fire-dancer's embrace. In that moment, it was as if time, once again, stood still just for them. For over a decade, they had been connected through little else than mishaps, misfortunes, and distrust. But now… now they were connected in, not only life, but death, as well. They both knew for a fact that nothing could tear them apart again. Nothing.

Looking back on everything they'd been through, Mortimer couldn't help but laugh softly. He leaned his face a little closer to Dustfinger's and slowly inhaled his scent. The smell of fire, ashes, honey, and the untamed forest would forever intoxicate the bookbinder's senses. When Dustfinger heard Mo laugh, not to mention realizing how close the bookbinder's face had become, he slowly inched his way out of the hug. He surprised himself with how heated his face had become from one little gesture from the older male.

"What's so funny?" The fire-tamer asked, trying to take Mo's focus away from his awkward demeanor.

The Bluejay smiled sheepishly. "Oh, you heard me laugh, huh?" He stared down at the ground, smiling nostalgically, as memories from the past began flooding his thoughts once more. "I was just thinking how we both have done a complete one-eighty, so to speak. It seems as though everything that's happened between us has led up to this night. It feels as if the past – our past – died when you did. The fact that-" he looked off into the distance as if it held all the answers he sought "-I was read into this world, almost lost my life upon first arrival, only to become this hero, the Bluejay, soon after…"

He sighed, "At first, it felt like one huge horrible nightmare. I was dying in a world that I didn't belong in and my family had to suffer, once again, because of my careless actions. Yet, the more I took on the role of the Bluejay, something inside me clicked. I felt for the first time in my life that I had truly found my reason for being. Whether or not Fenoglio's to blame for that is beside the point and I honestly could care less. I'm here now and I have no regrets about who I have become since my arrival. In a way…" he glanced over at Dustfinger and smiled appreciatively "… I began to change the moment I read you into my world. The fact that you switched places with my wife all those years ago signified a slow, but ever growing transformation within me. I know you resented me for taking you away from your home, but-"

"But I've already forgiven you for that! I did so long ago." Dustfinger sounded and looked a little guiltier that he should. He knew he was as much to blame for what happened back then as Silvertongue. It was an accident, nothing more.

Mo smiled sympathetically, "I know. Though I still wouldn't blame you if you hadn't. I now know what it's like to be taken from your home against your will. The only difference is that I'm beginning to miss my world less and less the longer I'm here. It's a very strange feeling." He paused for a moment to close his eyes and re-establish his thoughts. He then looked back at Dustfinger. "Anyway, as I was saying, though you may not have known it, you were slowly becoming my closest friend. You still are, even more so now than ever." He smiled adoringly at the man whose face now matched the hue of his beloved flames.

Scratching his head, Dustfinger tried to find the words in which to respond. "Y-Yeah, same here. I… I mean I always had the Black Prince by my side growing up. He's been my best friend since I was six."

"I know."

"He told you?"

"Yeah," Mo smiled.

Dustfinger ducked his head momentarily with embarrassment. "Should have expected no less from him. He _is _like a brother to me, after all." He raised his head and revealed a soft smile, "He introduced me to Cloud-Dancer and the rest of the Motley Crew soon after our friendship was established. They all took care of me. To this day, I still think of them as my family. Fact is, they are the only family I have ever known. I can't even remember my parents…" His words seemed to trail off with his thoughts, leaving him looking forlorn and melancholy.

With pity in his eyes and heart, Mo reached over to hold one of Dustfinger's hands. This slightly startled the younger man. As he gazed into Silvertongue's gentle, loving eyes, he felt his heart swell and take on a mind of it's own. A not so distant memory jumped into his mind at the same moment their eyes met. In the past, every so often, he would catch himself wondering if Silvertongue's mouth tasted as wonderful as the words that flew from it, like birds catching a draft. Lost in this memory, Dustfinger allowed his imagination and desires to run free, thereby making him oblivious to the fact that he was now inching closer to Mo's face.

Mo, on the other hand, hadn't flown to a whimsical fantasy realm while the two of them reminisced. He panicked a bit as he noticed Dustfinger's approaching face and the longing look in his eyes. Yet he could not deny his racing heart and, for a mere moment, he almost gave in to the other man's advances.

'_No, Mortimer!' _He mentally slapped himself. '_This isn't right! What are you thinking? Dustfinger has Roxane and I have Resa. Maybe he's lost in a daze and thinks I'm Roxane. Yeah, that's probably it. Why else would he be…? Anyway, I'd better_ _snap him out of it before…'_ his heart sank as a painful realization hit him like a stray bullet, '…_before I give in to something I thought was only in my imagination.'_

He grabbed the dazed fire-tamer by the shoulders and shook him. "Hey, Dustfinger, snap out of it! I'm not Roxane! Come to your senses!"

"Uh… wha-what?" Dustfinger blinked a few times, shook his head, and regained his composure. "Silvertongue, what's wrong? What was I doing that made you…?" His face was beat red by the time memories of a few moments ago slapped him like an angry female. He cupped his mouth in his hand out of sheer embarrassment.

"I think you were in a daze and thought I was Roxane. You must miss her a lot." Mo chuckled halfheartedly as a mask to hide his selfish disappointment.

The fire-eater's brows furrowed in confusion, "Roxane? Did I say her name?"

Mo shrugged, "No, but who else would you look at so longingly? Not to mention… uh…"

Instantaneously, they avoided eye contact. Dustfinger squinted and placed his face in the palm of his hand. '_Dammit, Dustfinger! What in the name of fire and brimstone do you think you were doing? Something must be wrong with me. Perhaps I really was thinking of Roxane when I leaned towards Silvertongue. But I didn't see her in my mind's eye. The only one I saw was…' _He lifted his head to peer over at Mortimer, only to avert his eyes once more when their gazes met, faces ablaze. _'Okay, there is __definitely__ something wrong with me!'_


	2. The Hand of Justice

Before the two men went their separate ways for the evening, Mo and Dustfinger made a carefully laid out plan for tomorrow's events. Only a few days prior did Firefox threaten to enslave all the children of Ombra and make them work in the Silver Mines if the women of the town did not surrender the Bluejay. This cruel act infuriated Mortimer; or perhaps it was his new alter ego, the Bluejay, that found this injustice horrifying. Either way, Mo was determined to save those poor defenseless children. Firefox's men had already captured them in the middle of the night and imprisoned them in Ombra castle's dungeon cells.

Mo had told one of the Motley spies earlier that day to spread the word of the Bluejay's surrender. If it meant giving up his own life to save those kids, he was ready to take that plunge. He could just imagine the smug smile on Firefox's face when word would eventually reach his ears. It made his stomach turn.

Resa and Meggie repeatedly begged him to reconsider this venture. His wife pleaded with him to think about their unborn child, about how it would feel to grow up without its father. Although he loved his family more than anything else in the world, the Jay was consumed by his desire to bring justice to the Inkworld. The thought of its inhabitants suffering day after day at the hands of the Adderhead and his followers unsettled Mo's heart. He knew he could never live with himself if he simply ignored the chaos surrounding him. He was falling deeply in love with this new world and so felt the need to protect it, even at the cost of his life.

Later that evening, while Silvertongue walked with the Black Prince discussing plans for tomorrow, he spotted Meggie standing next to a tree, alone. He excused himself from his friend's company and strolled over to his daughter. He put a gentle hand on her shoulder, which made her jump a bit and turn her head swiftly.

"Shouldn't you be asleep, young lady? It's very late. Is there something on your mind?" He bent down slightly to look her in the eyes. She had grown so tall over such a short period of time. How did he miss that? He smiled kindly as he waited for an answer.

Meggie merely shrugged and looked straight-ahead, avoiding eye contact with her father. "You're so set in your ways, Mo. So much so that it doesn't seem like anything Resa or I say gets through to you. You've changed so much." She couldn't hold back tears any longer, as she finally looked deep into her father's eyes. "You've, literally, become the Bluejay. A fictional character created by Fenoglio. It was never meant to be anything more than words of hope for the poor people in this world. Nothing more! Yet you gladly took on the part as if it's been who you are all along. Why, Mo? I don't understand."

The bookbinder held his daughter close and stroked her golden locks to offer what little comfort he could, considering the circumstances. "Meggie, please don't cry. I honestly don't know what's happening to me. But I do know that it feels right. I feel in my heart that I was meant to be the Bluejay. Perhaps Fenoglio is somewhat responsible for these feelings, or perhaps not. One way or another, this is who I have become and maybe what I always have been. There's a possibility this side of me has laid dormant all of these years, waiting for its moment to shine."

He lifted his daughter's chin so she could see the sincerity in his eyes. "Now is that time, Meggie. I've got to save those children. I could never live with myself if I did nothing but let them fall into slavery at the hands of that bastard, Firefox. Would you?"

Meggie knew he was right. She'd feel terrible if nothing was done to help those poor children. But that wasn't enough to ease the fear she held for her father's life. She had no way of knowing if he'd come back alive. She had never known a fear so intense till this very evening.

She shook her head in response. "But why can't the Black Prince and his men do it? You can stay behind with me and Resa where it's safe." Her eyes were practically screaming at him to consider this option.

Mo wiped the tears from her eyes and kissed her forehead. "You know I can't do that. Besides, Firefox wants the Bluejay. Sending the Black Prince instead would be a waste of time, not to mention reckless. That blood thirsty rat will be waiting for my arrival at the castle gates and who am I to disappoint him?"

There it was again... that mischievous smile that only began showing itself when Mo was turning into the Bluejay. Meggie hated that smile. She wanted her father back. She wanted _his _smile. Secretly, she cursed Fenoglio and the Inkworld he created. She missed Elinor's house more than ever.

Mo gently moved the hair from in front of her eyes and cupped her pretty face in his hands. "I'll be fine, Meggie. Dustfinger will be with me for added protection. So don't worry, okay?" He softly kissed her forehead once more.

"So he really is back?" She asked with a twinge of hope and happiness in every syllable.

Mo smiled. "He sure is. I made sure of that." He dared not tell her about the horrid deal he made with Death. He wanted to shove any doubts into oblivion. He wanted the courage, confidence, and strength he acquired while he assumed his Bluejay identity to shine above all else. His precious daughter's life was on the line, after all, as well as his own and Dustfinger's. For a moment, his heart felt heavy, but he immediately shook it off. There was no room for doubt with so much at stake.

Meggie's heart, on the other hand, remained heavy and remorseful. Though she was happy and relieved that the fire-tamer was alive and well, she knew that the distance between her and Farid would only stretch further because of it. She saw him less and less every day, resulting in her heart wavering little by little. She was no fool. She knew that the way Farid stared at Dustfinger was much more passionate than the way he looked at her. She sighed heavily. Why did love have to hurt so much?

She smiled warily. "That's good to hear. I'm sure Farid, the Black Prince, and Roxanne will be thrilled to see him again. I missed him, too."

Her father smiled back, almost triumphantly. "I think we all missed him. This world would seem quite empty and lonely without him." He stood upright and outstretched his hand to his beloved daughter. "Now let's go get some rest. Tomorrow is a big day."

Oh how she loved Mo. He was her everything and she didn't want to lose him. Would he stand a chance against Firefox and his men? _Stop thinking such things, Meggie! _She scolded herself. _He'll be just fine. Dustfinger will protect him, I'm sure of it. Everything will be fine…_ She repeated that last statement over and over again in her head as she walked hand-in-hand with her father back to the tents. It was like a secret mantra to help calm her wary heart.

To help her sleep, she kindly asked Batistta to sing encouraging songs about the Bluejay and his triumphs. He gladly accepted and in moments, Meggie was fast asleep. As Batistta continued his hymns of hope, he worked on the finishing touches to the Bluejay's newest accessory: a mask adorned with bluejay feathers.


	3. Rescued

The walls of the cellar were dank and dreary. The stones aligning the ground where slightly damp and cold, which made Farid shiver occasionally. Even though he was accustomed to such conditions (sometimes worse), what made this different was the fact that he was helpless against it. His hands were bound together with rope behind a large wooden pillar. He leaned his back against the damp wood and sighed heavily. He had gone too far this time when it came to testing Orpheus's temper. He winced in pain, for his head still throbbed from the harsh blow Oss bestowed upon it.

_Damn! _He cursed to himself. _Now I'll never get to see Dustfinger again. More importantly, I'll never get to see the light of another day if Chunk does intend to kill me once night falls. _

Once again, his sighs of remorse filled the cellar. His one regret would be that he could not spend his whole life training happily as Dustfinger's apprentice. "Dustfinger…" Whispering that wonderful name not only made the Arab boy smile, but his longing to see the fire tamer increased ten fold. He felt such an intense anger towards Cheeseface, enough to make him throw every curse he knew from this world, his own, and the world in which he met Dustfinger in Orpheus's direction. He dared not speak them aloud, even though he had nothing to fear from it. Death was already looming over his head like a plague, so what sort of retribution could Orpheus dish out that was more threatening? Absolutely none.

Just then, he heard the cellar door open. Was it that late already? Farid lowered his head, ready to accept his grim fate. He mentally chuckled as he pondered the idea of giving Oss one swift kick to the nose as he untied his bonds. To prepare for this action, he leaned his body against the pillar once more. The more the footsteps made their way down the wooden staircase, the more anxious Farid became. Even though he had already experienced death once before, he still feared it. He braced himself for the worst.

"Well, well!" A familiar voice echoed off the damp walls and fell on Farid's bewildered ears. "Looks as if moonface is doing alright in this world. This house is huge! Probably cost the bastard a pretty penny. Oh, hey there, Farid. Seems as though you've seen better days, am I right?"

Farid's eyes shot open and peered desperately at the figure in front of him, shrouded in darkness. One, two, three, four, five… five small flames surrounded the face of the one who spoke. Just then, Farid heard two little martens scurry towards him and chirp their happiness at seeing him. No way! Could it be…? Sure enough, the flames revealed the face of the man Farid longed to see more than anyone else in the universe: Dustfinger. His heart pounded ferociously in his chest as the infamous fire dancer knelt beside him, pulled out a knife, and began to quickly cut away at the boy's bonds. It was as if all the years of sadness and loneliness had been washed away upon his return to the living. Not to mention…

"Your scars! They're gone!" Farid whispered his shock.

Dustfinger chuckled. "Yes, and the strangest part is that I think Roxanne misses them. I sure as hell don't. Though I do feel as if a small part of me is missing. But I definitely don't miss them enough to ask for them back. It's nice not having a physical reminder of a painful past."

Above, they could hear agitated voices resonating. "Guess Orpheus realized he has an unexpected visitor. I'm sure he'll be down any minute to greet me."

Farid could care less about anything else at that particular moment besides the man before him. He feared Dustfinger was merely a ghost, or worse, just a dream. Yet, as the fire tamer worked tediously at the ropes, Farid could feel his warmth, hear his steady heartbeat, and best of all, he smelled like fire. The Bluejay had brought him back. In that moment, the Arab boy felt as if he owed the robber his life. He would surely have to thank him graciously the next time their paths cross. He knew in his heart that this miracle was not Orpheus's handy work. As soon as he felt the bonds loosen, and then fall to the ground, he outstretched his hands to feel the fire dancer's scar-free face.

This gesture made Dustfinger laugh a little. "What? Making sure I'm not a ghost? I guess you're still afraid of them, huh? Suppose I _was _one…"

Farid leapt into his arms and held him in a tight embrace. He had missed Dustfinger so much. The pain from endless nights of longing mixed with unrelenting happiness was all he felt while sharing that brief, miraculous moment with that very special man.

The lunge was so sudden and powerful that it almost knocked Dustfinger off balance. "Whoa there, Farid! I missed you, too, but you're gonna knock me over any second now." He snickered as he stood up, helping Farid along. "If you wanna thank someone for my being here, it should be Brianna and Jasper. The little guy told my daughter what Orpheus planned to do to you, so she rode to Roxanne for help. You're lucky to have such a wonderful little friend like him." He smiled down at the glass man standing on his shoulder.

A red tinge could be seen on Jasper's face when he noticed Farid smiling at him. "Thank you, Jasper. I owe you one."

A shy smile met with grateful eyes, "Think nothing of it, Farid. You would have done the same for me, after all."

"So true," Farid readily agreed.

"I saw him go down into the cellar, boss. I couldn't stop him. He was hot to the touch, even his hair seemed to emit sparks."

Their joyful moment was ruined when they heard the bickering voices of their enemies coming down into the cellar. They stood their ground and mentally prepared for anything.

"Did he have a scarred face?"

"No… Why?"

Once Orpheus caught sight of the revived fire dancer, his eyes and mouth grew wide with joy. "So you really _did _return from the dead! I'm so glad! My words and voice work such fine miracles." His face gleamed with pride.

"Do they now?" Dustfinger smiled mockingly as a flame danced on his palm, eventually taking the shape of a White Woman. "I don't recall your words or voice creating anything other than chaos and death."

"But I brought you back to life! I gave Death the Bluejay in exchange for your life. I did it all for you!" Orpheus felt a pang in his chest as he glared at the "unappreciative" man before him.

"Yeah, about that… I never once heard your voice whilst in the realm of the dead. The voice I did hear, however, was that of Silvertongue. His courage and kindness brought me back." He smiled warmly as he thought of Mo. As if to physically portray his thoughts, the flame on his hand changed it's shape into the man its master secretly longed for.

"Nonsense!" Orpheus squealed like a hurt child, but regained what little composure he could muster. "That's ridiculous. It was MY words alone that pried you from Death's grip. No matter what that Bluejay might have told you, it's all lies."

Dustfinger's brows furrowed slightly. "He would _never_ lie to me. He did tell me, however, about the deal you made with him; about how you promised to read his family back to their world in exchange for calling the White Women. Quite audacious on your part, considering you never planned on keeping your word. And even though he was tricked and dragged off against his will, he still cared enough to save me."

Orpheus's eyes fumed with rage. "He was merely a tool of mine! The White Women only respond to _his_ calls. What else was I to do? And, anyway, he did it all for his wife! Not you!"

Even though that last part stung Dustfinger's heart like needles, he shrugged it off knowing he had to face facts. "I honestly can't think of a better reason. He loves Resa, after all." He let the forlorn feelings linger for a moment before he reverted his attention back on his target of hate. "Now, as for your 'holier-than-thou' complex regarding your voice and words, let me just get one thing straight. Your voice only resonates feelings of hate, greed, and selfishness. You think only of yourself. Silvertongue's voice, on the other hand, resonates feelings of love, peace, and empathy. Things you cannot possibly fathom. The mere sight of you makes me sick to my stomach."

Through his knife-piercing gaze, it looked as though Orpheus might shed tears. "How dare you, you ungrateful bastard! After all I've done for you! After all the hard work I put into creating a bright future for you! How could you betray me like this? You speak so highly of that damned bookbinder as if he's something special. I'm sick of it! Screw my original plan! I'm gonna have that so-called hero killed come day break."

Flames of fury engulfed the fire tamer. His eyes, which seemed to glow blood red, pierced Orpheus to his very soul. "If you so much as think about writing Silvertongue's name down, I'll burn you to a cinder. I speak highly of him for many reasons. None of which concern you. It's not as if you'd be able to understand such tender emotions anyway." The flames died down to mere sparks, though his eyes remained unforgiving. "And, for the record, I've never sworn allegiance to you, therefore it is impossible for me to betray you. Your very existence means nothing to me."

Farid was taken aback by the ferocity in Dustfinger's words. He'd never seen Dustfinger put Silvertongue in such high regard. A twinge of jealousy pinged at his heart.

"Farid." The young boy jumped a bit when he heard the cold, husky voice of his mentor.

"Y-Yes?"

"Take this-" a flaming torch appeared in Dustfinger's grasp, then handed down to the Arab teen, "-and go fetch every single scrap of paper Orpheus owns. I want nothing left behind that he could use to do anymore harm to this world. And don't forget the book, too."

Farid smiled proudly as he took the torch. "Of course! I'll make sure to wipe his study clean. Let's go, Jasper!" The little glass man hopped onto Farid's shoulder and they both made their way up the cellar stairs. It wasn't long before Oss and Orpheus barred his way.

"You're not going anywhere, you good for nothing brat! I'll have Oss take you to the hillside to be killed immediately. Oss!" Orpheus signaled his servant to seize the boy.

"You got it, boss! Let's go, you worthless piece of garbage! Time to meet your maker."

As Chunk inched closer, Farid swung his torch at his offender to scare him off. It didn't work the way he'd have liked, so Dustfinger lent a hand. Flames shot up in all directions, some in varying shapes and sizes. One in particular was shaped like a dragon. Its fiery eyes peered dangerously into Oss's eyes, as if to warn him not to test its capabilities. Oss cowered in fear.

"Let the boy pass." Dustfinger warned from down below. "I've learned a few new tricks whilst being on the other side. As much as I'd like to show them off, I fear it would be wasted on the likes of you, so I'll stick to some of my old, but trusty ones. Go on ahead, Farid! They won't touch you."

Farid nodded, then raced up the stairs towards Orpheus's study where he was met by a very angry Ironstone. They were able to thwart Jasper's brother's plan to pummel them with pens, inkwells, and anything else the little glass man could get his hands on. They grabbed every scrap of paper they could find, not forgetting the all-important Inkheart.

They quickly made their way to the lobby where Dustfinger was waiting patiently.

"What about Cheeseface and Chunk?" Farid looked in all directions, panicking.

"If you're referring to your old caretakers, they'll be busy for quite some time on those cellar steps while they try to put out my flames." A mischievous grin spread across the fire dancer's handsome healed face. "Come. We must get back to camp before dawn."

"Why?" Farid inquired.

"Because I am to ride by Silvertongue's side as we face the Piper."

A look of sheer terror fell upon Farid's face. As they walked back to the Motley camp, Dustfinger carefully explained what was gonna happen once the sun rose over the mountains of Ombra.


	4. For The Children

Everything surrounding the main entrance to Ombra castle was silent – eerily silent – as spectators awaited the arrival of their savior. Whispers were heard among the women of the surrounding villages. The safe return of their children hung on their lips, as well as the guilt for handing over the one man who was willing to sacrifice his life for the well being of total strangers. But… isn't that what a hero is supposed to do?

As the first rays of dawn stretched its warm arms over the land of Ombra, everyone fell silent, listening intently to the steadily growing sounds of hooves pounding into the muddy road leading to the castle. Soon, they all saw a figure come into view; it was the infamous Bluejay. He held himself high on his steed as he casually made his way forward. He wore traditional bookbinder attire with pride. Around his neck hung the specially crafted mask Batissta had made the previous night. He needn't wear it over his face, for everyone already knew what he looked like. There was no reason to hide. He stared straight ahead, his eyes never wandered. As he passed, he saw the sad, fearful faces of the women of Ombra. They hated seeing him go through with this, but the safety of their children was their primary concern.

Following closely behind the Bluejay's heels was Dustfinger. He rode proudly behind the infamous robber, ready to defend him with his life if need be. Murmurs could be heard amongst the crowd. They spoke of a more recent tale of the Bluejay in which a man who befriends fire follows loyally at the Jay's side, like a shadow, to help bring an end to the Piper's tyranny. Indeed, Dustfinger had now earned a new nickname: the Bluejay's Shadow. A proud title he wore on his sleeve, along with his heart.

Meggie and Teresa hid themselves well amongst the crowd. They didn't want Mo to see that they had broken their promise to remain in the Motley camp that morning. Resa felt weak in the knees and quite light headed as she watched her husband riding towards an almost certain death. Meggie, on the other hand, seemed a bit too calm under the circumstances. She held her mother's arm to support her as she stared unwaveringly at her father. Though she could hide it well, inside she was terrified for Mo's life.

Above the front gates of Ombra castle, the Piper, Milksop, Violante, and little Jacopo had been waiting anxiously for the Bluejay's arrival. Silvernose's mischievous grin widened when he saw his enemy approach.

"Welcome to Ombra Castle, Bluejay!" His mock greeting made Mo's stomach turn. "I've been looking forward to meeting you for quite sometime. I must admit, though, I'm rather surprised to see you in person. I had assumed you'd send a doppelganger in your place."

Mo's smile reeked of defiance. "I didn't take you for a fool, Piper. I already knew you couldn't be duped by such trickery. But, more importantly, I could never forgive myself if I stooped so low as to put someone else's life in danger in order to save my own. You, on the other hand, seem to have no qualms about jeopardizing the lives of others. You're nothing but a sick, twisted bastard who enjoys the suffering of others. Your time will come soon, Piper! And I will be there to watch you fall."

Everyone was silent as the Bluejay spoke of justice and the Piper's downfall. They stared in awe at their mysterious savior. Even Meggie and Resa were caught up in the moment. The man before them no longer resembled the once docile and kind Mortimer they once knew. The fury in his eyes was that of the Bluejay's – a man consumed by justice and a willingness to shed blood to achieve it. Mortimer's former self seemed completely lost now thanks to his newly found alter ego.

Silvernose clapped mockingly, "Such a noble speech one would expect from a hero. It's unfortunate, though, that it holds no meaning. After all, once you pass these gates, you are my prisoner, thereby rendered helpless to save anyone, including yourself. You only have yourself to blame. You came here willingly, knowing the consequences."

Mo's anger rose to a fevered pitch, "Enough of your nonsense! Release the children! We had a deal, Piper!"

The Piper raised a hand, "Not so fast, Bluejay. I demand to know what that dirty fire-eater is doing here. I do not recall him being part of our deal."

Before Silvertongue could answer, fire was already dancing up the castle walls towards the Piper and his guards. Silvernose took a step back and sneered menacingly at Dustfinger. The fire-tamer simply smiled as his hands commanded the flames masterfully.

"I am here to make sure you do not harm your guest. Call me the Bluejay's bodyguard, if you will. The flames are his friends as much as they are mine and I will not hesitate to prove that if provoked. Death has bound the two of us together. Wherever he goes, I go." Dustfinger warned.

Mo turned to his companion and smiled. He felt his entire being light up, as if it were glowing in the sunlight. For that single moment, he allowed his heart to beat a little faster. He still didn't know why, but these feelings always felt right somehow.

Such a moment was broken instantly as the Piper's temper flared. "Try that stunt again, fire-eater, and I'll have you both killed on the spot and all those little brats will be sent to the Silver Mines without hesitation! Got that?" He cleared his throat, dusted his sleeves of any remaining ashes, and regained his composure. "Now then, back to business. Bluejay, I will release the children in exchange for your surrender as long as your new fire shadow doesn't follow you inside. This is between you and me alone."

Dustfinger trotted a little closer to Mo, "That's what you think, Piper! I'll-"

"No, Dustfinger!" Mo's arm shot out to one side to bar Dustfinger's way. The fire-dancer stopped abruptly, startled by the harsh tone in Mo's voice. "He's right. This is between him and me. I cannot endanger the lives of those children any further. Plus…" he turned his head to face his companion, a small grin appearing on his weary face, "… I don't want you to get hurt on my account. I don't want to lose you, Dustfinger. Not again."

Dustfinger's heart leapt into his throat. "Silvertongue…" Though his mind was reeling, he found himself speechless and unable to move.

"Aw, what a touching show of friendship. It almost brings a tear to my eye." Silvernose chuckled mockingly.

Mo quickly turned his attention back on his enemy and yelled ferociously, "Shut the hell up, Piper! We have a deal, so release those kids at once!"

The Piper raised his arms pretending to be apprehensive, "Oooh, how scary! Fine, Bluejay, a deal is a deal. Open the gates!"

Not a moment later did his guards slowly open the old, creaky gates of the castle. Sure enough, waiting on the other side were all the children the Piper had kidnapped. As soon as the opening was wide enough, the children rushed out to greet and thank their rescuer. They gathered around him and his horse with open arms and wide smiles. Mo's heart melted as he looked at their innocent faces. He leaned his hands down so the kids could grasp them in gratitude.

"Enough!" The Piper barked. "Bluejay, fulfill your end of the bargain. Step through the gates. I am growing impatient."

Mo shot one quick death glare towards Silvernose before returning his gentle gaze back at the children. He asked them to move out of the way, but with little success. The kids refused to let their hero fall victim to the Piper like they had. With a deep remorseful sigh, Silvertongue slowly made his way past the wall of children. Many cries of protest arose amongst them.

"Go to your mothers, children." Mo gently ushered them. "They've missed you all very much. I have to go teach that bad Piper a lesson for treating all of you so poorly." Though they still protested, the infamous Bluejay continued on his way through the gates.

As soon as he was completely on castle grounds, the guards wasted no time in apprehending him. As the gates slowly creaked to a close, the last image everyone saw was of the Bluejay getting violently hauled off of his horse by at least a dozen of Piper's men.


End file.
